The rain pelted down onto the pavement with such force it pushed back up from the ground like a mist. Side stepping round the puddles and trying to avoid the gushing water running from the weed choked drains, Jess picked her way across the platform to the next train. Her knee length boots were soaked and carried the water up onto her long skirt. She gripped a long cardigan around her and brushed a loose strand of brunette hair back, smoothing her ponytail as she did. He face was clear of make up but speckled lightly with water. Her brown eyes chipped with green made her face light up. If it weren’t for the deep black marks around her eyes from no sleep, she may have been beautiful. Her hands were shaking slightly as she approached the platform and looked at the open door to the train. ‘Damn,’ she thought, ‘if I’m like this now what the hell will I be like at the other end’. Smiling a thin, wry smile she stepped up onto the train and selected the least stained seat by the window. Brushing a crumb-filled crisp packet to the floor she peered from the misty (or was it dirty) window and watched people on the platform. Gazing at a woman with patterned tights and a long skirt who was wobbling painfully on some too-high boots she allowed her mind to wander to the task in hand. He eyes lost focus as she thought about how quickly it had all come about. The first niggling feeling of suspicion blew up into fact in a matter of days, her life tumbling rapidly around her as she was still coming to terms with the discovery. Unable to comprehend what she now knew she had retreated into herself. Walked around in a daze for days until she saw how to cope with it, how to escape the depravity that sat in her mind. She felt truly sick at the memory and rubbed her hands over her face as if to wipe away the past. She shook her head and realised that it didn’t matter any more. Where she was heading it wouldn’t matter ever again.

Slightly shadowed by a billboard declaring ‘the best rates ever’ on some faceless credit card, a figure flung a blazing cigarette to the ground. Shrouded in the mist of rebounding rain he looked dark and sinister. A rain-darkened hat sat almost on top of the raised collar of a long rain jacket which was pulled tight around a tall, male form. Dark shoes with a high polish finished off all that was in view of the man. Heedless of the puddles and drips he made his way to the very end of the train, pausing only slightly to look into the carriages at the passengers. Smiling a slightly crooked smile he pushed his hands deep into his pockets and climbed aboard the train. His hands gripped onto the barrel of the gun in his pocket and fingers expertly ran down the weapon and fingered the bullets for the umpteenth time this morning. John Berling imagined cornering her in an alleyway, rain coursing over her as he ripped her clothes from her, gun pressing firmly into her breast as he forced her into submission. Feeling a stirring in his trousers he shifted from foot to foot to discourage the thought. As the doors beeped to show they were closing he took one last peer through the adjoining doors to the carriage where she sat before picking a seat near the exit, hand resting firmly on the weapon in his pocket.

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"I like how you decribe the weather. I can hear and see its raining hard in your story. Will you could add what Jess is feeling is getting a creapy feeling. Erray feeling. great story." -- Jeanette.